Summons
by clever.tricks
Summary: Gary needs comfort; Raoul needs to comfort him.


_A/N: Written for Goldenlake SMACKDOWN, 2011. It wasn't until after I wrote this fic that I realised Duke Gareth doesn't have his heart attack until quite a bit later, during the coronation. Let's just call this an AU, in which he has it a few months earlier, before Alanna comes back to Tortall._

_Dear Raoul,  
>I know you were deeply affected by recent events at the palace, and that it was your desire to remove yourself from reminders of said events. However, I sincerely and urgently ask you to return forthwith, as swiftly as the journey will allow. Duke Gareth has suffered a major heart attack. He's still alive, and Duke Baird is doing all he can, but he's fairly incapacitated. Gary's not taking it well - he tries to put on a brave face, and he succeeds for the most part, but I know him well enough to see through it. I try to keep him busy with work, as he's unofficially taken over his father's position as Prime Minister, but I also worry about running him down. This is why I'm asking you come back to Corus – for Gary's sake. I know you don't enjoy court life, and I know you were bothered by the revelation of Alanna's identity. That you felt betrayed by us, your friends, who hadn't told you. We never meant anything by it, Raoul. It was a secret we were trusted with, and it wasn't our place to tell anyone. I'm not trying to take away from the hurt you must justifiably feel, but merely trying to tell you that we never intended to betray you. Least of all Gary. In his defence, he never even knew about Alanna's sex until a week or so before she was revealed before the court. Raoul, if you won't come back for anything else, come back for Gary. He won't write to you himself; he's scared you're still upset with him, though he won't admit it. I'm doing my best for him, but you could help him better than I can. At least consider it. I don't want to have to order you.<br>All my best wishes,  
>Prince Jonathon<em>

_P.S. Please give the Sandrunners my warmest regards. They've been among the most accepting of me in my new position among the Bazhir, and I think you may have had something to do with that – thank you. _

Raoul galloped across the desert, casting a storm in his wake as his horse's hooves threw up the sand under them. He had no luggage: it would weigh him down, and he couldn't spare the time to pack. He rode alone: company would slow him down, and he didn't want to talk. When he was forced to stop to eat, or trade horses, he drew out the letter and read it over. When the messenger had handed it to him, clothed in the royal livery, Raoul had almost refused to accept it, though he knew that was dishonourable. It was only because Jon had instructed the messenger – "Tell him it's for Gary" – that Raoul was persuaded to read it. He had barely scanned the postscript when he ran to tell the headman he had to leave, asked for a meal for the messenger, and leap upon the horse he knew as the fastest in the village.

Now, he knew the important bits by heart. _Gary's not taking it well. He's scared you're still upset with him. Come back for Gary._ He chanted in his head as he rode day and night, through city and country, until it was a mantra, propelling him still onward.

When he burst through the palace gates, he hesitated for the first time. Where would he find Gary now? He proceeded through the grounds, keeping an eye out for anyone who might be able to direct him. Should he go and wait outside Gary's door? "Raoul!" A voice called. It was Jon. Raoul dismounted and shoved the reigns into Jon's hands.

"Where's Gary?"

"He's in uncle Gareth's rooms, I think. Raoul, I - " But Raoul was already running through the palace doors, and never noticed the bittersweet smile Jon cast after him.

Gary sat watching his sleeping father, or dozing himself, when someone tried to knock the door down. He got up angrily and prepared to give the person a thorough telling-off; another moment and they'd wake Father. He flung the door open, but his scowl dissolved at the sight of the knocker. They stood on either side of the doorway, still and staring. Eyes watering. Gary extended a hand to touch the apparition on the cheek, expecting, in his grief and fear and loneliness, to find empty air. He had gone mad and conjured an image for comfort. But the face was ruddy and real. His fingers balled in the curly hair, gritty with desert sand. As he knew the truth, he crumpled into Raoul's chest and felt Raoul's arms wrap him tight. "I'm with you," Raoul said. For the first time of his knighthood, Gary allowed himself to weep.


End file.
